Midnight
by xxTristenxx
Summary: So, Bella's no longer your completely average human. She's a little more complicated, and a little more special. And, she knows Jacob before she even moves to Forks. How will all this effect her life there? And how will Edward take this bella?


**A/N: So, this is basically what Twilight would be like if say; My character from one of my own stories, Natalie, was Bella, and so on... And I also apologize if you find it a little bit... boring? in the beginning. Or, if you're like my mom, and confused as to what the difference is.**

**THIS IS JUST THE FIRST CHAPTER, I WOULD'VE ADDED MORE BUT THE DOCUMENT WAS TOO FAT. XD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, but in this case, I do own some of the characters! D (Only, I didn't change their names.)**

**Cast:**

**Trent as Jacob Black**

**Natalie Sloane as Isabella Swan**

**And well..**

**Billy is Billy**

**Charlie is Charlie**

**And so on...**

* * *

Midnight

A Fan fiction Story By: Tristen

I closed my eyes as the wind rushed into my face from the rolled down windows of Renee's car. It was seventy-five degress in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. Well, perfect to someone who wasn't me. The sun tingled against my skin in an unpleasant, yet familiar way. I was wearing my favorite shirt – sleeveless, red eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It was from the town and it's gloomy, omnipresent shade that Renee escaped with me when I was only a few months old.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself-an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks.

Not that Phoenix was heaven, either. Well, climatically anyways. I was never one for the blistering heat. Not to mention the city, even though it was fun to spend some time with a couple of friends out on the town once in a while.

"Bella," Renee, my mother, said to me for the thousandth before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still…

"I _want_ to go," I lied. For rarely ever lying-unless the situation called for it; like now, for instance-I was a pretty good liar, Especially since I had been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded even more convincing now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi"

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want -- I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise. I was pretty good at reading people.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone.

Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.

He seemed somewhat pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me buy a car.

A nice car, I hoped.

But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was very vocal, about anything. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision-like my mother before me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen-just unavoidable. Though, saying goodbye to the sun wasn't the hardest parting I was faced with.

Charlie was already there and waiting for me in the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the little money that I had saved up, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renee?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to address either of them by their first names in front of them.

I had only a few bags. Most of my clothes were damaged beyond repair, for my 'tastes', at least. The rest was far too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in.

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he expressed it being good for _me_. Charlie hadn't spent a lot of time with me.

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"I remember his son." I admitted.

I hadn't spent a lot of time with Billy, but his son, Jacob Black, was as clear as daylight in my mind. I had met him during one of my summers here, and we instantly became friends. He had spent a little time in Phoenix, too, living with another friend whom I had also grown attached to. It had been a while since I saw him last, though.

"Oh, well, Billy used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.

That was probably why I hadn't got to know him very well. I was never really a big fan of water, and I was very good at blocking out painful or unnecessary things from my memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine-it's only a few years old, really."

An old engine with a do-it-yourself-tune-up didn't exactly sound all that promising speed wise. "When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties-or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Dad, I don't really think I'd be able to fix it up if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic."

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

And they probably don't for a reason. I bet _the thing_ can't even reach 20 mph without dying.

"How cheap is cheap?" This was the question that seemed to always make all the difference in the world.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add that my being happy in Forks was going to take a lot more than some old, run down, rusty, clunker car, disgust—

"We're here." Charlie announced, interrupting my inner ramblings.

There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my not-so-new truck. It was a faded red colour, with a big, rounded fender and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I actually kind of liked it. I could just tell that it probably wouldn't run very fast. What with the size that would not only add to the maneuver problems, but the friction over such a vast surface of metal had to slow it down…

As I pondered over many scientific explanations, I began to slowly, and almost involuntarily, vow to it that I would just always accept it as what it is and that I would do my best to not mistreat it despite my horrible klutziness. And then I attempted to give it a hug, and failed. The hard metal knocked my face lightly, but enough to cause me to lose my balance and fall onto my back.

I got up quickly before Charlie could freak out and said, "Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" And I did love it. I vowed that I would love it for the rest of my eternity, despite its age or what other might say. And, if that didn't work out, at least it could get me to school in time… hopefully.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.

I snatched my bags from out of Charlie's cruiser and ran up to my room. I looked around quickly and noticed that it hadn't changed at all. The only real changes that were ever made were replacing the crib with the bed and adding a desk and computer as I grew older.

He left me alone to unpack my things and get settled. It was nice to have some alone time, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let it all sink in for a moment.

Forks high school hosted far less people than my old school of over several hundred. With now three hundred and fifty eight students, every one of them growing up here, I was sure to be labeled as the freaky new, different girl.

Not that I wasn't used to being the freaky, different girl… I think it was really the whole, "new" concept that had me hanging here.

If I looked like how a normal girl from Phoenix should, I may have been able to work that to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fir in anywhere. I _should_ be a tan, sporty, blond — a volley ball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps—all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I had very light, ivory skin without even the excuse of red hair, and only half way to the blue eyes, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; considering I just got taken down by a senior citizen of a truck just moments earlier. Not to mention that I was probably a serious hazard to anyone standing close to me while I was holding sports equipment.

When I finished putting away my clothes in the old pine wood dresser, I went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, black, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but I already looked shallower, unhealthy. My skin had pretty-potential—it was very clear, almost translucent-looking—but still not what I'd consider very glorious. Most of me paled in comparison to some of people I knew.

As I faced my pallid reflection in the mirror, it was then that I came to terms that I was lying to myself about only not fitting in psychically; And not only because I almost completely inhuman and insane, in ways.

I didn't relate well to people my age. Well, I didn't really relate around any age categorization of people in general. But I did seem to at least fit in better amongst a room of adults than teenagers.

Maybe if I was just a little bit more normal, just a little bit more preppy, a bit more… sane, then I could fit in better.

Maybe, I could be a good actress.

After I finished getting cleaned up a bit more, I crawled into bed and attempted to fall asleep. And sure enough, after an hour or so, I drifted off into the abyss of my almost comforting nightmares.


End file.
